Just Your Foolish Pride
by 023Faust
Summary: After divorcing Eric Clapton, Pattie finds herself wretchedly reminiscing about her young innocent love with George Harrison and is plunged into a state of despair. Plucking up her shattered courage, she decides to contact him; but will his spiritual guidance, gentle nature and steady friendship still be available to her? Short Fanfiction : George/Pattie and George/Olivia fluff
1. I Need You

_Finally some peace and quiet! Here in my flat we're secretly stowed away from the band, the demanding modelling agencies, the vicious fan girls and those bullying reporters. In fact, this is the first time we've actually been blessed with the rare luxury of relishing our relationship free of prying onlookers; our previous meetings had been chaperoned by Brian Epstein, and George had been too self-conscious to reveal his feelings for me in front of an audience. So now we're curled up together on my bed, like two anxious children seeking comfort from the dark…the same way I would lay with my brother Colin when our stepfather had so cruelly mistreated us. With warm fingers softly intertwined, we lose ourselves in the welcomed silence that envelopes us and I gaze captivatedly into his meditative eyes. The only sound that washes over us is that of our own shallow breathing and quick, nervous heartbeats. The room is getting stuffy from the heat of our adoration, yet the comforting pillows feel icy cold beneath the itchy heat of my blushing cheek. _

_After a while, George's stern face gradually breaks into a nervous smile, and an awkward chuckle escapes his toothy grin. Why is he laughing? We haven't uttered a word since we soundlessly crawled onto my bed…so what has made him giggle like this? I feel my already warm cheeks burn to the extent that watery tears of embarrassment are filling my wide eyes, and I pray he isn't laughing at me._

"_What's so amusing?" I pout sensitively, trying my hardest to conceal the niggling concerns that he's not genuinely in love with me._

"_Nothing," George reassures me in hushed tones but the boyish grin remains on his handsome young face, "it's just…I think you're so beautiful, Pattie."_

"_Oh!" I'm quite taken aback. Sure, he's professed his love and admired my looks dozens of times on the set of A Hard Day's Night…but that was before things began to get serious between us. He'd just been horsing around then with the lads, and had been sexually involved with so many other women on set; I had understandably doubted the sincerity of his comments. But now, here…alone together…his words seem to ignite a fire deep within my soul._

"_Pattie?" he quietly presses me for a response, and I bite my lip thoughtfully (I'm terribly inelegant coping with these situations!)._

"_Thank you, George." is all I manage to reply, my voice being little more than a frivolous whisper and we're plunged back into protracted silence._

_The fabric of my Mary Quant dress creases as I ineptly draw my knees up to my chest and George's trademark Beatle suit is equally as rumpled; he had snuck here straight after a television appearance with the band, and the poor soul had had no time at all to change into clean clothes. I'd even offered him my shower as he wearily entered the flat, but instead he had one simple request for me to fulfil: for us to lie together without a care in the world. He squeezes my tingling hand tighter, and before I know how to react, he's already leant over to my pillowed place to plant a heartfelt kiss on my lips. I sigh blissfully, losing myself to the surprisingly sweet sensation of his velvety lips pressed against mine as his calloused hands dance their way up to my neck. He gradually draws back from the innocent kiss with a lopsided smirk, and I surprise myself by hungrily returning his amorous act. I had always been the shy one in relationships, too timid and afraid to make any physical moves on my part…but with George, I feel we are equals. Breathing shakily, he draws me closer into his heaving chest with his warm arms shielding me from the outside world and our hectic vocations. Another heated kiss and his teeth linger upon my quivering bottom lip as he holds back the desire to make love to me right now. I think he knows I'm not like other girls, and that he respects my reservations of engaging in a physical relationship only two weeks into our courting; I'd been reluctant to lose my virginity to my previous lover and had hoped to remain a virgin until wedded. But I find myself struggling to clutch onto these morals as I feel the heat of his body searing through his shirt, beckoning me to remove the item of clothing and explore the bare skin below._

"_Oh my!" we hear a small voice squeak, and we promptly tear apart from our passionate embrace._

_Mary Bee (my flatmate) stands in the doorway of our shared bedroom, a comb in one hand and Wee-Wee (our gorgeous black kitten) bundled under her other arm. She's frozen to the spot, her blue eyes darting from me to George; goodness knows how ridiculous we all must look gawping foolishly at each other! I sit up quickly, and apologise for startling her; she's only just getting used to the fact her friend is dating a Beatle! I desperately smooth out the unsightly folds in my dress and try to fix my messy hair (still ruffled from kissing George!). All the time she never takes her large eyes off us and I'm getting incredibly flustered. She's only just learnt of my intimacy with George last week when I thought it was only polite to introduce them both…though I'm not entirely sure how she's taking this._

"_Goodness! Mary I'm very sorry about this!" I cry out, my cheeks red hot and eyes wild with shock…but her pretty little mouth has curled into an amused smile and I hear George chuckling beside me, "I didn't expect you to be home from your modelling shoot so early!"_

"_The photographer had to dash off, don't be sorry! You've done nothing wrong, Dearie!" she giggles tenderly and places little Wee-Wee on the carpeted floor by her dainty feet. I can't help but burst into fits of relieved laughter and I roll into George's warm side. Thank God I'm sharing a flat with lovely Mary!_

"_Hullo, Mary!" George cheerily calls out in his thick Liverpudlian accent as he drapes his arm around my shoulders._

"_Hello again George!" she smiles sweetly at the Beatle before turning back to me, "I'm sorry I startled you, I just didn't expect you to be here with the other half."_

"_I didn't expect him here either!" I giggle girlishly, and playfully bat a pillow into his face, "He just turned up!"_

"_I thought I'd surprise you." He snickers and his hands is wrapped around mine affectionately, "I'm not a nasty surprise, am I?"_

"_No, a very pleasant one!" I grin and he leans in to peck me delicately on the cheek._

"_Well, I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds…" Mary begins but I feel guilty for making my flatmate feel uncomfortable in her own home._

"_No Mary," I protest flushed, "don't feel you have to leave on our account! We could all go out for a meal together perhaps?"_

"_It's fine, Pattie!" Mary coos soothingly, "I was going out with some of the girls from the shoot earlier anyway. I'll see you later, dearie…and you too Georgie!"_

"_Bye, Mary!" George and I call out in unison as she gently closes the bedroom door behind her. Alone again, I lay back down beside my lover and our noses touch. His breath is hot on my lips and I silently watch his deep eyes trace the roundish outline of my face. I gingerly reach up and allow my fingertips to caress his high prominent cheek bones; this is perfection._

"_Pattie?" his calm voice is soft music to my ears._

"_Yes, George?" I reply, my eyes locking with his in the fading evening light._

"_I love you." He responds tenderly and this time our kiss grows into so much more…_

All that is but a bittersweet memory now…


	2. Layla

_Years pass by, and another man is edging his way into my life…_

"Eric?" I ask quietly as he sits me down beside him on the sofa, "Why have you brought me here?"

Away from the commotion of the party, Eric has fallen unusually silent and his dark eyes are fixated on the carpeted floor. Perched on the end of a cushion, I rigidly glance around the darkened room and pick at my nails uncomfortably; I don't even really _know_ the owners of this house, yet here I am sat in this cosy room with George's best friend! Eric's rough hand clumsily reaches across to mine, and the warm pressure causes me to hurriedly pull away from his unwelcome clutch. I do wish he'd stop doing this! His morose eyes momentarily tear away from the floor, up to my upset face, and my blood runs cold. His pupils flash with a deep hunger…a crazed passion tearing him apart…tearing my _marriage_ apart. I wish _George_ was here. Why couldn't he have just taken a tiny break from recording? Just for _one_ night? I don't know how long I can bear this…_awkwardness_.

"I wrote a song." Eric finally answers ambiguously, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and offering me one.

"A song?" I ask, politely taking one between my slender fingers.

"For you." I take a nervous drag on the cigarette, dreading what will come next as he reveals a 7" vinyl labelled "Layla", and silently proceeds to place it on the old record player beside the sofa. My heart is hammering in my head. A part of me is panicking that I'll upset him by denying his desperate advances…another part of me (deep down) is petrified that this will be it: that this will be the pivotal moment where I completely and hopelessly fall for him. I _wish_ I could assure myself that I had no real feelings (beyond friendship) for Eric…but I'd be lying.

As the mind-blowing opening chords roar out into the dark room, my confused heart practically melts and I find myself instinctively clutching onto Eric with raw lust. He wraps his arms around me amorously, dragging me into his chest until I can feel his own tremendous heartbeat pulsate with me own. I listen to the song, I listen to the lyrics that spell out my life so perfectly, that reach out to me and offer me love. But I _can't _allow myself to be bewitched! Admittedly things have been difficult with George lately: he seems to have gone into himself so to speak and is obsessed with Hinduism. Plus he's a hot-blooded man, and I _know_ he's given himself to other women behind my back…

But as the song draws to an end, so does the magic and I'm prying myself free from Eric's clasp with unvoiced disgust. What am I doing here?! This is a trick…he's trapped me here in this dingy room on false pretences to force me into making a heart wrenching decision I just don't wish to face! He eyes me with bewilderment as I stare him straight in the face and my blood steadily begins to boil.

"Eric," my voice wavers between annoyance and affection, "what is this all for? Why are you _doing_ this to me?"

"I'm in love with you." He answers plain and simple.

"Don't be foolish!" I reply cuttingly, abruptly standing up from the sofa and turning my back on him, "You _know_ we can't do this…you _know_ I'm with George."

"_You're_ the foolish one," he retaliates fiercely and he spins me round to face him, "_you're_ the one hanging onto a dead end marriage. Can't you see this? _You've_ caged yourself, Pattie…only _you_ have the key to your freedom."

"My relationship with George is thriving, thank you very much." I answer defensively through gritted teeth, "I'm in _love_ with him: isn't that what marriage is all about?"

"Pattie," his voice is steady, and I can see his eyes are flooded with concern (but I find this so condescending!) "_please_, I can tell times have been hard. I know you've cried the last year away…you _need_ someone. You need someone who will be by your side when you need them most…and sadly, that _someone_ is not George."

"How can you even _say_ that?!" I visibly shake with rage, "Do you _really_ have the nerve to condemn your best friend's marriage?!"

"I'm not condemning a marriage," his voice raises slightly and he's gripping onto me like I'm a wild creature, "I'm saving a woman destined for a loveless life!"

"_Eric_! You're hurting me!" I cry out feebly as his constricting grip on my arm begins to burn, "Please, Eric! I'd like to go home now…"

"I refuse to lose you this time." He answers determinedly, and I'm forcefully pulled into a violent kiss.

I try to viciously push away from his mighty embrace, or scream for help from a fellow party goer…but his lips are simply intoxicating. His hands feverishly run themselves through my long hair, driving my lips to remain in contact with his own, and he presses his tongue into my mouth. No! This isn't _right_! I'm _Mrs Harrison_…not Eric's mistress! My frantic gasps and pants of terror gradually become intermingled with sighs of euphoria. I feel resolve slipping, and I _hate_ myself for it…but _how_ can I stop what my heart insists is acceptable?!

"Oh, Pattie!" he moans frantically into my mouth as our forbidden kiss grows unexpectedly fierce, "You have no idea how crazy you're driving me!"

"Eric…I…" but the words are smothered by his urgent lips.

"No, don't speak." he commands seductively, and my knees tremble with unleashed yearning, "Just stop teasing me and lie down."

I'm aware of his hands upon my waist, guiding me down onto the sofa and he positions himself above me. His overpowering kisses are passionate upon my neck as he ravenously uncovered every last section of my body and holds me tight.

_And with that, we made love. I knew it was wrong at the time…I knew I was being unfaithful to my husband, being sinful, being adulterous…but at that moment, I honestly loved Eric more than anything in the world._

Walking hand-in-hand with my secret lover through the gardens of the house, I feel elated and there is enchantment in the misty evening air. I feel like a vulnerable, flowering maiden in a fairy tale and Eric is my saviour from a sinking depression. Yet moments like these are not intended to last, and reality is staring me in the face. George stands alone in the garden, tensely watching his so called wife and best friend romantically stroll amongst the flowerbeds. My heart stops dead in my chest.

"What is _this_?!" George's stunned voice is mingled with a dreadful combination of shock, anger and hurt. Panicking, I tear my hand free from Eric's and rush to my husband's side, wondering how on earth I'm going to explain myself.

"George, darling," I smile breathlessly (I can feel myself flinching beneath his icy gaze), "it's…it's not what you think…Eric and I..."

"George," Eric's voice is calm and collected, and for a moment I kid myself into thinking he's going to cleverly cover up what has just happened between us, "I have to tell you, man…I'm in love with your wife."

My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces, and my stomach flips with an icy dread that I'm about to lose my husband. George doesn't really know how to take the astonishing news and glares at us from beneath a creased brow for what seems an eternity. I just want to curl up and die. This is _unbearable_! Eric is subtly shuffling closer to me and I feel his hot fingers brush mine provocatively, as though tempting me to run away with him _now_; but this merely infuriates me more and I shoot him a stony glare. I can't _believe_ I let this happen! I've been such an ignorant fool to let him seduce me like this…

"Well," George looks at me, all tight-lipped and gloomy eyed, "Are you going with _him_ or coming home with _me_?"

"_George_!" I cry out in sickly disbelief and clutch onto the fabric of his jacket as though he's about to vanish into thin air, "George, _of course_ I'm coming home!"

"Get in the car then." He mutters unfeelingly, and I feel his hand press against my back, as though steering me away from the man attempting to rupture our relationship.

"Goodbye, Pattie!" I hear Eric hopelessly call after me, and George quickens his furious pace (his jawline tightens and I'm scared he'll lose it at any moment). I grit my teeth, and only just manage to hold back the tears, as I wordlessly climb into George's mini; my husband shoots a disheartened glance in my direction, before igniting the engine and reluctantly driving me home. I feel utterly dirty and unclean as we draw nearer and nearer to home, and I want to just break down at George's feet to beg for his forgiveness. But as much as I feel overcome with remorse, I can't help but replay the beautiful lyrics of "Layla" in my head…or shamelessly relive the impure love-making session. But surely, _surely_ that doesn't mean I'm in _love_.

_Little did I know, Eric was to be my future husband and I was to break off my romantic relationship with George…for good._


End file.
